


Oz and the Infamous

by candymax



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Multi, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candymax/pseuds/candymax
Summary: When it comes to the Wicked Witch of the West and the people who played parts in her story, the textbooks don't tell everything. Musicalverse, ficlet/oneshot series, various pairings.





	1. The Chessmaster's Daughter

It was the month before Elphaba's twentieth birthday when Nessarose saw it. On the Shiz campus sat a pretty little bookstore, which was tucked out of the way of most student traffic. Amidst the frosted windows and cobblestone exterior sat a display of books in the front window. Behind the glass panes sat a thick, hardback volume titled "The Chessmaster's Daughter." 

"Boq, could you take me inside that store?" Nessa asked. He complied wordlessly, wheeling her inside and holding the door open for her.

Shortly before leaving for Shiz, Elphaba had saved up and bought a copy of that exact book. That version didn't have golden engraved letters or a nice picture of a chessboard on the front. Her copy had been bought from a secondhand store back home. Its pages were tattered and dog-eared, while its binding had begun to fall off. Elphaba had devoured it anyway, sneaking it into classes and under her covers at night. Nessa had listened to more than one rambling speech about it.

The book depicted the story of a young woman's journey into politics after her father, and how she struggled to make change and be taken seriously. However, Elphaba would never see it finished. The last pages of her copy were blank. Printing mistake, courtesy of the shoddy nature of the publishers. Elphaba had slammed the book shut, exclaiming to Nessa, "I can't believe it! How could this mistake get by? This completely ruins the entire narrative structure! Now I'll never know whether Deania gets the proposition passed! Or what all the chess symbolism was building to!" Still, the defective copy proudly remained on her bookshelf. 

In the bookstore, Nessa located a copy of the novel and flipped to the last pages. They were not, in fact, blank. Without a second thought, she bought it that day. She wrapped it in bright blue paper and tied it with a piece of twine. The gift sat on Nessa's dresser, waiting to be opened. 

One day, Elphaba left on a train for the Emerald City and didn't return. Her birthday came and went, but wherever she was, she didn't so much as acknowledge Nessa's existence. Of course, perhaps she was in a tight spot at the time or was simply too far away that day. "That day" multiplied into more days, which later blended into weeks and months. Still gone. So much for promising to take care of her. Shiz really was different. At least before, her sister only attracted the scorn of her classmates, not the entire country. 

One day, Nessa snatched the book off her dresser and buried it in the depths of her closet. There it stayed. It only saw the light of day when she pulled out the right dress and saw a swatch of blue paper underneath it, mocking her. Then, she quickly covered it up again and shut the door. When Elphaba's twenty-first birthday passed, and then her twenty-second, the gift remained in that exact spot, languishing in the bottom of a closet. 

Elphaba would've been nearing her twenty-third birthday by the time the book was touched again. Nessa had been packing clothes into her suitcase, for good this time. The dorm room was empty and bare, with only Morrible's half showing signs of life at all. Nessa gave a pinched glare as she pulled the book from the closet and blew off the layer of dust. Did the cursed thing even deserve to be taken home? The sight of it only served as a reminder of the empty seat next to her at graduation. 

With a sigh, her glare faded. She tossed the gift into her suitcase. What else would she do with it? Elphaba had to come crawling back home eventually. So the book stayed, journeying from Shiz to Munchkinland. When the housekeeper of Colwen Grounds helped her unpack and asked her where the book was to go, Nessa had it placed on her bookshelf. Just like Elphaba would have.

The book rested there until one fateful day when Nessa stormed into her bedroom, wheels scraping the hardwood floor in a painful screech. She strained to reach the book off her shelf, knocking several of her own books off in the process. Black-clad, white-faced, and glassy-eyed, she tried and failed to keep her hands from shaking. She wheeled out of her room and ordered the housekeeper to take her downstairs. 

Her father was dead. The man who called her his "precious little girl," and who took her to the theater on her thirteenth birthday, and who tucked her into bed every night no matter what political responsibilities faced him in that moment, was dead. And it was all Elphaba's fault. Nobody said that out loud, not even the doctors, but she knew it was true. The witch didn't even make an appearance at his funeral. There wasn't even a letter. Clearly, she didn't give a twig about her family. 

Nessa was wheeled in front of the fireplace in the living room as per her instructions, and was swiftly left alone when the housekeeper scurried off to some other duty. The fireplace crackled and burned, but it was still so cold. 

She held the gift in front of her. The blue paper and twine were the first to go. Nessa daintily picked off the tape, removed the paper in one piece, and threw it into the fireplace. Only the book was left. She opened it up to the final page, ripped it out, and threw it to the flames. The ending pages went first, but Nessa made sure to rip each and every page from its binding. It became a methodical, clinical process. Tear out a page, or two or three or five, and depose of it in the fire. Every printed word and intricate drawing was torn apart until nothing but an empty husk of a book remained. 

Nessa spared one last glance to the gift, now nothing but a cover and spine, before tossing that into the fire as well. Folding her hands primly on her lap, she watched on as the fire leapt and danced. The hand-drawn cover illustrations were eaten away into smoldering black ashes.


	2. Better Not to Know

The cornfields near Boq's childhood home were exactly as he remembered them. A sea of waving yellow stalks were parted only by a winding dirt road marred by potholes and mud puddles. As a boy, he had run breathless through the fields in childhood games of tag. To prevent himself from being "it" all the time, he'd run off-path and hide behind the stalks. Sometimes, he would jump in the puddles, just to see the satisfying picture of mud flying through the air. 

Not that he could do that anymore. He was far too old for such things and his feet would rust if he submerged them in a puddle.

Was coming back to Munchkinland a mistake? Most likely. There wasn't much left for him there anymore except bitter memories of his past life. He might as well be a different person. Still, he tromped forward. If Dorothy could make it back to Kansas, why couldn't he return as well? No place like home, right? At the end of the path were the only people who might still be there for him.

This was it. The field gave way to a simple farmhouse. Although Boq hadn't been there since before Madame Governor took power, the passing of time had little effect on its appearance. The house was small, with a sloped, straw-padded roof, chipping white paint revealing dark wood underneath, and a front door that never quite hung right on its hinges. Smoke gently rose from the chimney, letting him know someone was inside.

His steps slowed. The front door loomed in front of him. Boq raised a clenched hand to knock, but froze before touching the door. Did he have any place there? Did he still have the right to see his mama and papa, or his older sister, or his younger brothers? Did they believe he was dead, or that he abandoned them? Would they even recognize him, all metal and hinges, as family?

If that door opened, whoever stood behind it would most likely scream in terror at the sight of him like the Governess had. Then again, maybe they wouldn't. He was one of the Heroes of Oz now, someone who had a hand in the Witch's demise. Surely that must count for something. He could explain that he was the way he was because of witchcraft, and they'd understand. Wouldn't they? Or would the fact that he was tainted with wicked magic be enough to drive them away?

If he knocked on that door and it opened, questions and curious stares would soon follow from the people who were supposed to know him the best. They may even cast him out while gawking at his strange appearance or blaming him for their oppression under the Governess. He couldn't bear the possibility, and couldn't handle another rejection. Perhaps it was better not to know. 

Boq lowered his hand and left the stoop, retreating once more into that golden field.


	3. Mispronunciation

The day after Dr. Dillamond was fired and replaced, class continued on as usual. Well, mostly usual. The chatter of students was louder than usual, and a stray ball of paper flew across the room. In the back corner, Galinda rhythmically tapped her newly-painted nails against her books. She tried not to dwell on the increased amount of wide-eyed stares and whispered comments directed at her roommate. Oz knew she'd heard enough wild stories about what Elphaba had done in class yesterday. She only wished she could've seen it play out before her own eyes. Why did all the best gossip material happen when she wasn't looking?

As Dr. Nikidik entered the room and took his place in front of the chalkboard, the students continued talking even after he loudly cleared his throat. It hadn't quite sunk in that he was to be their permanent new professor and that Dillamond wouldn't be back the next day. Or next week. Or ever. What if he never taught anywhere ever again?

"Quiet!" Dr. Nikidik barked. Slowly, reluctantly, the chatter faded to silence. "Time to take roll call," he droned nasally, adjusting his glasses. Galinda stared down at the desk while bouncing one leg up and down. Dr. Dillamond had never bothered with roll call. It was a stupid thing to do anyway. They were adults. No need to treat them like five-year-olds.

Roll began. Soon, she had the 'pleasure' of hearing every single one of her classmates' names horribly butchered, punctured only by snickering whenever the name was truly mangled beyond repair. She tuned out for a bit as the professor continued on. Nobody would think her annoying for correcting Dillamond on his pronunciation ever again now that they knew what it was like, she thought. She should be glad for that. Should be. 

She began listening again once the list neared the end of the alphabet, if only to see how her friends' names were interpreted. And interpreted they were. "Elphaba Thorpe?" Nikidik asked. 

"It's Thropp, actually."

"Duly noted, Miss Thorpe. Now, where's Nessarose Thorpe?"

Nessa briefly raised her hand, paying no attention to how Elphaba shot her best steely glare at the teacher. A few people in front of her turned to stare as if expecting another magic show, but she didn't acknowledge them, or even look them in the eye.

Dr. Nikidik continued down the list. "Fiyaro...Tigaler?" 

Fiyero halfheartedly raised his hand. Leaning back in his chair, he grumbled about how he was a member of a royal family, and yet they still couldn't get his name right. 

The professor ran off a few more names before calling out, "And finally, Galinda Upland."

Galinda raised her hand. 

Perfect pronunciation, without a hitch. She should've been pleased, but her stomach twisted uncomfortably and she felt vaguely sick. 

She'd gotten what she wanted. Why wasn't she happy?


	4. Rain Maker

She didn't have much. No family to her name, as she was dropped in front of an orphanage as a baby and raised by a rotating cast of strangers. No friends, as such connections were too breakable and unreliable for her to bear. No status, no fame, barely enough money to survive. A nobody, a far cry from the frivolity and finery her home country of Gillikin was infamous for. However, she had one thing reliably within her grasp: a natural affinity for magic stirring deep within her. Since she had that, the power and fame would surely arrive if she worked hard enough. 

When she cried, sheets of rain pelted the windows. When she laughed, golden rays of sun pierced through the clouds. When she was angry, booms of thunder and stabs of lightning were soon to follow. The other orphan children feared her and hid under their blankets from her raging storms at night. That didn't matter, for they could not ever hope to create something so amazing in their pathetic lives. They simply didn't appreciate talent when they saw it.

However, even she had to admit her abilities would be more useful if properly contained. There were fewer ways to worsen an already dreary day than to have a personal rain cloud manifest over one's head and not be able to get rid of it. 

So, when she came of age, she fled to relative seclusion in a lumber village on the edge of the Great Gillikin Forest. Taking up residence in an abandoned cottage, she took whatever work she could find and devoured any spell book she could get her hands on. Many candle-lit nights were spent studying the ancient texts until her eyes burned. The electric crackling of magic made her feel truly alive, and she craved ever more.

In her time there, the villagers had been peaceful. None were rich, but they were able to make their livelihoods through shipping lumber off throughout Oz. Then, the Great Drought arrived at their doorstep. Trees grew bare and crackling, and the food they'd found among the forest floor had shriveled up and died. The people grew restless and angry, claiming the leadership wasn't doing enough. Gillikinese officials tried their hardest, but the Emerald City's massive political upheaval meant that no help came from above. 

For her village, the tipping point came when a brush fire raged across the already-parched land and threatened to destroy both the village and the trees they desperately needed to survive. They spoke of the witch who'd made thunderclouds outside her window at will. Soon, a crowd stood at her doorstep, gazing up at a cottage untouched by the licking flames. Strong, burly men with calluses on their hands and lines of ash running down their faces clutched their coughing wives and children. 

She emerged, narrowed eyes scanning the crowd. The air was thick with smoke and desperation. "Make the rain come," one pleaded. "Please. We'll do anything."

They groveled at her feet, and it was glorious. Who was she to turn down such a golden opportunity? "Anything?" she asked with a smirk.

She didn't ask for much. The village showered her in gifts and replaced her cottage with a real, sturdy house. They accepted her input in any decisions, and made her the richest, most powerful woman in town. In return, she brought the rain. Word spread of the village that prospered while others struggled. Surrounding towns journeyed to her and begged for help. They increased her power, so she brought their rain, too. 

It still wasn't enough. Surely she was destined for greater things than ruling over a few small hick towns in the middle of the forest. She wielded the power of gods beneath her fingertips, did she not? There was no challenge anymore, no thrillifying rush from completing a tough spell for the first time. There was nothing to work for, no reason to stay awake all night perfecting a spell. The worst obstacle she faced was the occasional dissenting townsperson, which was easily dealt with by a little freak lightning storm.

Once things in the Emerald City calmed down, whispers began. A Wonderful Wizard with limitless magic had taken power and would fix all their problems forever. Finally, someone who could match her in talent! He supposedly granted visits to those he deemed worthy, so she wrote to this Wizard, boasting of her accomplishments. Soon, a letter trimmed in ornate green and gold arrived. Of course the Wizard would request a personal audience with her!

She left Gillikin behind without a second thought, and soon stood before the Wizard's chambers. 

"The Wizard will see you now."

When she stepped inside, the Wizard's head roared to life with a terrible groan. "Madina Morrible! I have recieved your letter and heard of your magical prowess in weather. You are seeking better magical control and influence over Oz, yes?" The head's mouth mechanically snapped open and closed, not quite syncing to what he was saying.

"Precisely," she replied, looking the giant head directly in its glowing eyes. Where many others would tremble in fear at the sight, she stood tall and proud.

"You came from nothing and managed to become a powerful sorceress and leader. I respect that. I can aid you with whatever sorcery teachers and political endeavors you so desire, but I will need your help in return in ending this drought. Join me. We can help each other."

A too-wide, unsettling smile split Morrible's face. "Go on. I'm interested..."


	5. Until Day Breaks

After the last glimmers of sunlight vanished over the horizon came nightfall. It was a time when the drudgery and distractions of the daylight were temporarily laid to rest. In the Badlands, the inky darkness and near-silence were a far cry from the bright lights and noise of the Emerald City, or even from Munchkinland and the Vinkus. There was a disconcerting solitude to it all. One glance out the window revealed little more than what resembled a black hole, while everything in the room seemed to loom over them more when hidden in eerie shadows.

For Elphaba, there were good nights and bad nights. 

Tonight was a bad night. Fiyero could tell that much when he found her in the bedroom, wide awake well after midnight. The sheets had been tangled into knots and spilled over onto the floor below. She sat on the very edge of the bed and did not react to Fiyero's presence at all, merely staring straight ahead at nothing. Her hair had fallen out of its bun and was in tangles, her jaw was tightly clenched, and every inch of her body seemed painfully tensed.  
Some bad nights ended in a fight. Others led Elphaba to finally release the emotion she held inside and allow herself a rare cry. Oz, he would've almost preferred either of those options to suffocating silence. 

The nights were always worse. At daytime, there were repairs on the house to make and books to read and the chance of finding a fellow person or Animal out there somewhere. It wasn't so dark that it didn't make a difference whether his eyes were open or shut.

The trance broke when Elphaba acknowledged Fiyero at last, briefly meeting eyes with him before glancing away. She let out a single, choked sob before burying her head in her hands and entwining her fists into her hair. It wasn't long before she sat up, back ramrod-straight again. Her eyes were widened and rimmed with dark circles, but not a single tear came from them. In the morning, she would apologize to him for having to see her like that. Morning seemed weeks away. 

Fiyero took a tentative step towards the bed, knowing he had to do something right then. The question was what exactly would be best. Should he say something? There was so much he wanted to tell her: how much he loved her, how none of the things that happened to her were her fault, and how strong she was for getting through it all. Of course, if he did say his thoughts, something would get lost in translation when it reached her ears. He'd learned not to underestimate his ability to say something stupid and make it worse.

He closed the remaining distance between where he stood and where she sat. The bed creaked and groaned in protest as he climbed on from the other side. He moved closer to her, until they sat back-to-back. It was hard to notice at first, but he could feel Elphaba's entire body slightly shaking. Even out of his peripheral, Fiyero could not make out her face. Her features were hidden behind a curtain of her hair when she dropped her head to fixate on a spot on the ground. What exactly went on in her mind, he didn't know for certain, but he could guess. She was the last surviving member of her family, Oz still celebrated her death, and her best friend was a world away.

Whatever Fiyero could do for her wouldn't be enough. She had a thousand demons preying on her mind, and he was just one person. It was impossible to fix everything. He knew that this wouldn't be the last bad night she ever had. But she was a strong one, and he wasn't going anywhere. The bad nights never lasted forever, no matter how long they felt.

Elphaba sat up again, causing them to lean against each other once more. Whether it was truth or merely Fiyero's perceptions and hopes he wasn't sure, but he felt that Elphaba wasn't shaking as badly that time around. Fiyero allowed his eyes to close, relaxing his body. Perhaps she would fall asleep eventually. Perhaps she wouldn't. Either way, he settled in for the night. There they stayed, resting on the bed until dawn broke.


	6. You'll All Get Along

It had all started with Galinda's Ozdamned puppy-dog eyes. They were a lethal, hypnotic weapon that had most likely been used in the past to get her parents to buy her a pony. Those huge eyes had been turned on her at every opportunity in the days before Galinda's trip to the banks of the Gillikin River, accompanied by pleads of "Come on, Elphie, you should come too! It'll be fun!"

As she followed after Galinda and her posse (one was ShenShen, one was Pfannee, and she couldn't tell which one was which to save her life) while they piled out of the carriage, she cursed her lack of willpower. She could've been at Shiz right then, in bed with a book instead of having to carry all the bags and picnic baskets everyone else refused to pick up.

Perhaps it was scientific curiosity that had finally lead Elphaba to roll her eyes one day in their dorm room and tell Galinda, "Fine, I'll go." A friend had invited her somewhere. A friend. That wasn't related to her. That wanted to spend time with her. She used to wonder what that would be like. Perhaps that was what drove her forward that morning as she packed her lunch and even put on her bathing suit under her clothes.

She shouldn't be here. Why did she ever think that day would be different from the rest of her life? Throughout the carriage ride to the river, Galinda's friends hadn't said much. They hadn't needed to. They simply stared on with narrowed eyes and lips curled up in disgusted anticipation while Galinda pretended not to notice and prattled on about something unimportant. They were undoubtedly waiting for an insult to be thrown, a prank to be revealed, or any other logical reason as to why she had suddenly dragged the green girl along after hating her all year before the OzDust. 

Elphaba promptly dropped all the blankets and baskets that had been unceremoniously shoved into her arms, leaving them behind right in front of the carriage. Enough of this. Favors for others only went so far between people who despised each other.

"Be careful! If my picnic blanket gets ruined, you're paying for it," said Pfannee (or was it ShenShen?) as they snatched their things off the ground and carried them the rest of the way. Galinda mouthed a "sorry" to Elphaba as she hefted her blanket and a picnic basket under her arm. 

She trailed after them through the high grasses leading towards the river bank. "I wasn't aware I was your servant. What, are your arms broken to where you can't carry a blanket?" Elphaba replied to Pfannee with an eye roll. It'll be fun, Galinda had said. You'll all get along, she'd said. When dirt gave way to sand, they'd reached their destination. After the other girls set their towels down right next to the river, Elphaba crossed her arms. ShenShen and Pfannee only glanced at each other. The glares on both sides had not gone away. 

"Come on, what are we waiting for?" asked Galinda as she cut in between them, smile toothier than usual. She reached into the water and lightly splashed Pfannee. Only a few drops landed on her arm, which wasn't enough to do any major damage or, Oz forbid, ruin her makeup.

"Ooh, I'll get you for that!" Pfannee exclaimed with a giggle. The three girls hurriedly shed their blouses, shoes, and ruffled skirts to reveal swimsuits. The languid, barely-moving surface of the river was disrupted when they ran in, their heels kicking up sprays of foam with every step. Before long, the water was up to their chests. Elphaba watched from a distance as the other girls splashed each other and squealed at frequencies only dogs could hear.

"Elphie! Aren't you coming in? The water's perfect!" yelled Galinda, motioning to her. 

Elphaba hesitated. She took a step towards the river, but was unable to move any further. Going in the water in her heavy skirt and jacket was not an option, for it would slow her down in the water and look ridiculous next to the others' bathing suits. She'd have to wear her own suit. Said suit was old, ill-fitting, and made her look disproportionately gangly. There was also the issue of it exposing her chest, legs, and arms, which was far too much green out in the open for comfort. Elphaba's long sleeves and boots were like her armor. Without that, she felt practically naked. That settled things, then. There was no way she would be seen in public with only a bathing suit on. "No, I...I don't want to swim right now!" she called back to Galinda. 

Galinda opened her mouth to say something before ShenShen chimed in with, "Maybe it's for the best. We wouldn't want the water to turn green, would we?" Pfannee snickered at that. The comment was not meant to reach her ears, but it did nonetheless. With a sigh, Elphaba laid her towel on the ground and sat down. Galinda had let the subject drop for once and stayed out in the water, preoccupied with her other friends. There was nothing else for Elphaba to do besides wait and watch the tiny ripples of water come close to her, but never make contact with her feet.   
...  
Years later, after Pfannee had graduated university and taken up residence in her family estate, a maid dropped the newspaper in her lap, as she did every day. As Pfannee unfolded the paper and prepared to flip to the society pages, an article on the Wicked Witch of the West caught her eye. 

She shuddered a bit at the name. If word ever got out that she'd willingly associated with the Witch at Shiz, her reputation would be ruined. They were never close, but the gossip circles would run wild anyway. 

Still, she wondered what the newspaper had wrote about the Witch this time, and skimmed the paragraphs. It was basically a wanted poster, detailing her crimes and weaknesses. "Her soul is so unclean pure water can melt her?" she read out loud. Her mind flew back to that one particular weekend at the lake. "Well," she mused, "That sure explains a lot."


	7. The Dancer

Stay light on your feet, know your steps to avoid running over your partner, hold her gently, and always smile. Fiyero had learned his lessons well, for once. 

At least the girl in his arms seemed to think so, giggling as he spun her. Her name was Lia, or Lee, or something, she was pretty enough, and Fiyero will have forgotten her name by morning. They were one of many pairs in the center of the packed ballroom, surrounded by all of Oz's most prestigious guests in their best suits and flowing dresses. The band played an upbeat tune, and the Vinkun palace had been cleaned to spotless perfection. Wine and liquor flowed freely, and Fiyero hoped to sneak away with a drink or three later despite his parents saying he was "far too young for such indulgences." It was his birthday celebration, after all. 

Every so often, he spotted a flash of bright green among the guests, which was usually accompanied by golden medallions, slicked hair, and black boots. The Wizard's private guards. They were everywhere. Not only were they threaded through the crowd, they patrolled the second floor overlooking the ballroom and loomed over the proceedings from behind the railings. A closer look revealed stern, hollow expressions, although that was the only uniform thing about their faces. Fiyero spotted everything from blonde Gillikinese, to dark-skinned Quadlings, and even a few native Vinkuns all working under a single force.

Gale Force had made themselves a constant presence in the palace even without a party. It wasn't unusual to see them circling the castle or lurking in the corners of the throne room. They had been circling the halls like vultures ever since his parents had granted an audience to the Wizard's ambassador from the Emerald City. 

He'd been there during the meeting. "It'll be a necessary learning experience," his papa had said. "He'll need to know how to do this one day." Seated to the side of his parents' thrones, Fiyero had traced the grain of the wooden chair with his fingers and tuned out everything said by anybody. His father spoke in that tone of voice Fiyero swore was designed to make people fall asleep right where they stood. How was he supposed to listen to that? 

Nothing anybody said made him take notice until the tiny, nasally-voiced, and green-clad City ambassador slammed his hands on the table placed before the throne. "These are direct orders from the Wizard himself! You are to send all the forces you possess to capture the fugitive "Resistance" group on your land."

"The Vinkus is a large place. We cannot control everything and everybody."

"These are dangerous Animals we're speaking of. They have to be apprehendified to the Emerald City as soon as possible. Think how it would look to the rest of Oz if your province was caught sympathizing with fugitives. Our unity will be forever disrupted."

Unity. Always necessary for any dance. If one was out of sync with their partner, the entire routine would fall into a labored mess. 

The meeting had ended abruptly when his father gave some vague speech about how they'd do whatever it took to keep Oz safe. They'd excused the ambassador, a Vinkun palace guard flanking him on either side as he departed the throne room. Gale Force had shown up shortly afterwards and hadn't left ever since. His father said that if they kept resisting, the Force would stop the intimidation game and go hunt the fugitives themselves. They'd undoubtedly turn the entire country upside down in the process. Hard desicion. Good thing it wasn't Fiyero's.

"Aren't you scared?" Lia asked breathily, barely making herself heard over the music and chatter.

"Huh? Of what?" 

"All those Animals, of course! Those fugitives could burst in at any minute. Haven't you heard? It's in all the papers."

He nodded and smiled just long enough to look engaged in the conversation. Oh, the papers. He'd seen the papers. In the time after Gale Force arrived at the castle, the Resistance issue had been on the front page of every newspaper that was thrown his way at the breakfast table. Between those and his parents' prattling in circles about it, he'd heard all the unimportant details whether he'd wanted to or not. 

The Emerald City Times wrote that the Resistance had a sinister plot to overthrow the Wizard's government and plunge the nation into past barbaric times where the provinces warred constantly with each other. To enact said plot, Animals broke into a new military training center to sabotage its dedication and murdered two high-ranking officers. The perpetrators had then fled to the Vinkus, where they will be brought to justice as soon as the royal family took action. The Vinkun Daily wrote that the Resistance was a reactionary group of troublemakers whose violent actions went against their claimed goals to bring Oz true equality. In protest of a law banning Animals from the military, they attacked the training center. Two security officers and one Animal died in the ensuing conflict. Remaining Resistance members' whereabouts are completely unknown. Underground Resistance publications confiscated by Fiyero's parents wrote that they were the last hope Oz has in the face of extreme Animal discrimination and silencing. Upon the unjust Bann of Animals from the military, Resistance members planned a protest on the military training center. The security officers, in a show of unbridled tyranny, responded by firing on the Animals and murdered one. Resistance fighters are encouraged to recoup in a remote location as detailed to members. 

Fiyero could drive himself crazy with all the inconsistencies if he so chose. He could also overwhelm himself on the ballroom floor by analyzing every single clinking glass or passing glance by those in the audience. Doing either would only end in falling on his face.

The next issue of the Emerald City Times mentioned that the Resistance had killed six people, not two. As if it had always been that way. But that didn't matter. Fiyero stopped reading the papers after that. It was a pointless exercise. He hadn't been there when the training center was attacked, so why should he be expected to figure out what happened? Why kill himself over the ambiguities? Why not lose himself forever under the dazzling chandelier lights and never-ending wine fountain, where everything was certain?

The soldiers. Of course. He accidentally met eyes with one of them before the man pulled something silver out of a holster around his waist. A tiny gleaming pistol. What the hell? Why? Fiyero's breath caught in his throat. The soldier pulled out a white cloth and began cleaning the pistol out in the open in a crowded ballroom, glaring at anything that moved. 

While the sight was out of the corner of his eye, Lia hadn't seen it yet. Without a hitch, he spun her around to face the opposite direction so she had no way of seeing it. He didn't have the energy to analyze the man's motivations. Answering any of her possible questions about it sounded hellish. He could hear his father's voice in his head, droning on about what would she think of their family if she saw, or the political repercussions, or if she thought their family was enough of a liability for Oz to where soldiers had to pull out a gun at random, blah, blah, blah.

"Wasn't it so kind of the Wizard to send his guards to protect everyone here? From the Resistance?" she asked. He hadn't missed a step. The girl hadn't noticed a thing, and only tried to lean further in against his shoulder. He let her relax against him as the music slowed down. 

"Don't worry about all that now. Let's dance," he replied.

Dancing was impossibly harder than it looked. Keeping the right posture, knowing the right steps, not bumping into anybody else, and keeping one's partner in sync was a delicate balance that left him to focus on eight different things at once. But none of that was important. All that mattered was that it looked easy from the outside. All anybody else should see was an effortless performance. And there was always an audience to perform for. He was safe. He was fulfilled. Those soldiers were there to keep them safe. He didn't have a care in the world. Nothing mattered except the glittering lights above him and a pretty girl in his arms whose name he had already half-forgotten.

Stay light on your feet, know your steps to avoid running over your partner, hold her gently, and always, always smile....


	8. Aim/Fire

"I don't know what bizarre fantasy world you're living in. This is never going to work."

"Come on, Elphie. Just try it. You can't be so down on yourself all the time."

Galinda had taken Elphaba by the hand and practically dragged her around the campus until they reached a grassy field behind the boys' dorms. When they finally stopped, she squinted at the bright, searing sunlight while Galinda rummaged through a pink duffel bag. On discovering what she had inside, Elphaba raised an eyebrow. "A baseball bat? I never pegged you as the type to play. I imagined you'd panic whenever you started to sweat and run your makeup."

Galinda pulled the wooden bat out, pausing to toss her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, I played it more often when I was younger than I do now. I still do it every once in a while, though. I have to keep my figure somehow," she said, placing a stray hand on her hip. The other day, she'd tried to teach her that exact pose as a flirting technique. As for why she was doing it right now, Elphaba could choose to dwell over it later. It was probably nothing. "Besides. Waterproof makeup. Now there's a tip, just for future reference. Don't go anywhere over seventy degrees without it."

Elphaba rolled her eyes. Yes, the game was one of the Wizard's many inventions, and she could appreciate their leader's attempt to bring something new to the masses. Yes, she could theoretically appreciate the complex set of rules and strategies involved. No, that didn't mean she actually wanted to stand around outside in the heavy skirts of her uniform and play it. Galinda had to shove the bat into her arms so she'd so much as consider playing. "We're not leaving until you try at least once. I'll stand right here 'till you try it," she said, folding her arms. "You wouldn't make me sleep outside with all the bugs, now, would you?"

"I don't think you'd want the answer to that question," Elphaba replied with a smirk. On Galinda's pout, her resolve began to chip away. "You're serious, aren't you? Fair enough. One time."

Galinda whooped in excitement and darted to the center of the field. She bounced up and down as if to shake her body out, warming up for the throw. "Watch the ball," she said as Elphaba took her place in the spot of grass designated as home plate and held up the bat. Before she could react, Galinda launched the baseball in her direction. Elphaba startled and jumped back, which she quickly realized was a terrible mistake. Now, the infernal thing flew in a trajectory straight towards her face. She threw the bat in front of her in a misplaced attempt at a swing. The ball narrowly missed her head and landed in the grass behind her. 

"You can't be scared of the ball, just hit it! It took me a whole year not to run away from it," Galinda replied. 

"I said I'd do it once. I did it once." 

"Since when are you giving up? If you stop now, you'll live the rest of your life never knowing what it's like to correctly hit a baseball." The pout was back.

"Oh, trust me, I'll be in agonizing pain for the rest of my days," she replied, moving back into position and lifting the bat up anyway. Her second attempt was no better than the first. Galinda's throw was off and the ball dived to the ground faster than she could hit it. She swung anyway, missing the ball completely. 

Her next several attempts showed no signs of improvement, despite every suggestion of advice. Galinda probably thought she looked like the most foolish person alive. Elphaba ground her teeth together, as each swing grew more wild and angry. "I never understood sports. They were always a competition for rich boys to show off. Oh, look at me, I can spend all day chasing a ball instead of having to work." Another failed attempt followed immediately afterwards. What kind of good learner makes the same mistakes over and over? She really was hopeless. Not that she cared or anything.

"Here, it'll help if you actually hold the bat right," she continued. Jogging over to stand behind Elphaba, she wrapped her arms around her and held the bat in their arms. She stood close enough for Elphaba to smell the sharp chemical sweetness of her perfume. Drawing the bat back, she said, "You have to hold it up here. Look at the ball when it comes towards you, and then swing. Make sure you follow through all the way to here." If Galinda's face was any closer, she'd be able to feel her breath on her neck. She couldn't remember the last time someone had willingly initiated physical contact with her for an unnecessary amount of time. It was...nice. And also sweaty.

Was...was Galinda flirting? With her? No, no, she was reading too much into it. She certainly wasn't about to question it, in case she was just being friendly and implying something else would be awful for everybody. She'd probably make it into an embarrassing situation regardless. For Oz's sake, even letting Galinda show her how to hold the bat was a struggle. Since Elphaba was so tall, that left Galinda no option but to peek awkwardly over her shoulder. While Elphaba didn't do anything too bold, she didn't pull away either, which was more than what she would've done to anybody before arriving at Shiz. 

This actually wasn't the most awful thing in the world. Fine. She'd play along with whatever this was. The mental image of her pitiful attempts at baseball couldn't remain unchallenged. 

Galinda ran back to a reasonable throwing distance and pitched the ball again. Elphaba narrowed her eyes, focusing intently on it as it sailed towards her. The very air around her seemed to crackle with electricity. She couldn't fail this. Next to how smooth Galinda was, she had to do something right. Some unknown light flashed in the corners of her eyes, but she paid it no mind. 

When the ball came close enough, she swung with all her might. There was no satisfying crack of the ball hitting the bat. She missed it entirely. Still, it flew soundly over Galinda's head as she gaped upwards in awe. Elphaba's magic had erupted in an enormous burst of green sparks with enough force to send it flying all on its own.

Also, the ball was on fire. In addition to being on fire, it was encased in the same green glow of magic and left a trail of sparks behind it. The thing kept sailing over the field like a shooting star until it completely disappeared from sight. A crash sounded from the direction of the boys' dorms. 

They stared after it, slack-jawed, before turning to each other in unison. "You know what, let's try something less dangerous next time," remarked Galinda. 

At least she hadn't finally decided to give up on half-baked plans to make her popular. Elphaba wasn't sure how she felt about that. She wasn't even sure of Galinda's actual feelings about her. Maybe she'd get another chance to find out later that didn't involve setting sports equipment on fire. In that instant, a more pressing issue weighed on her. "Madame Morrible will kill me."

"Not if she never finds out."

"Scatter?" 

"Scatter!"


	9. Not Deserving This

The Tin Man caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. Fiddling with the hair ribbon holding a braid in place, her eyes flitted about with every rustling leaf or hooting owl in the forest. All things considered, the girl had been holding out better than he'd expected. Even so, Dorothy's head still snapped his way when he rose to tend the last dying embers of the fire. "Oh, I don't mean to stare. Just frightened is all," she said. "We don't have anything like this in Kansas."

Perhaps he would've been just as scared to be in the dark forest at some point, with its gnarled tree branches reaching out like deformed limbs and whistling winds that sounded unfortunately like tortured screams. Nothing like the Other World, apparently. From what he'd heard of Kansas, it just seemed like a lot of farms. And cornfields. He almost had expected something more than what he could find if he looked out his window back home. And if the terrain wasn't too alien from her home, that meant the difference came in beings like him. 

"But you've all been very kind!" she continued. Had his thoughts been that obvious on his face? "It's just the Witch! I can't stop looking over my shoulder like she'll appear out of nowhere. Like she'll fly in on that broom, or appear in that strange smoke magic. In the Emerald City, I even heard that she has an extra eye that's always awake and uses it to spy on her enemies."

He crouched down to sit on the log, getting down to her level. "Hey. I don't sleep much either. If the Witch comes, we'll be ready." 

Maybe she really did have a third eye on the back of her head, or talons instead of fingernails, or skin poisonous to the touch. Or maybe she didn't. If all that was true, she'd done one hell of a job at hiding it at Shiz. 

Shiz. He didn't truly hate her back then. At first he'd gone along with the ridicule because it was just the thing to do. If so many popular, respected people uniformly agreed she was trouble, well, they might be onto something. Even if they weren't, they might turn on him if he said anything otherwise. 

Sure, the green skin was an unusual sight and he'd been quaking in his boots the day she'd hexed the entire class to steal that Lion Cub. But then Galinda had come around on her. Galinda had told him that her spells were an accident and she didn't mean to hurt anybody. If she had deemed the Witch worthy of friendship, surely she couldn't be so terrible, right? Her ten-minute rant on the ending to some book series was one hell of a way to spend a lunch period. The time she compared Dr. Nikidik to a rotten pineapple was actually pretty funny. 

Even after the first newspapers came rolling in from the Emerald City telling of her many misdeeds, he foolishly remained somewhat unconvinced. Why would she constantly espouse Animal rights to everyone in the vicinity, and then mutilate them the first chance she got? If all the things written about her were true, why did Glinda even put up with her for so long? 

Oh, Glinda. He hated himself for questioning her like this. Was Glinda knowingly sympathizing with evil at one point or was she just optimistically blind as to what the Witch was capable of? It had to be the latter. That was the only option he could stomach. He should've known the Witch's true nature sooner, should've warned her while he still had the chance. 

The Witch had successfully gained all of their trust and swiftly betrayed them. His first uneasy instincts were right all along. When Madame Governess dragged him to Colwen Grounds and passed the first restriction laws, he finally realized that. He couldn't even leave the province or see his own family. For someone who claimed to fight for the freedom of the oppressed, she sure was willing to turn a blind eye when her own little sister was involved. The Governess had stripped his people's rights one by one. The Witch had never once tried to stop her. His last night in the Governess' mansion was more of the same. Surely the Witch would've been able to stop the killing spell, right? Why did she bring that awful magical book around in the first place? Why keep him alive as an emotionless, unfeeling monster except to punish him for hurting her sister? The best thing she could've done was to let him die. 

He turned his attention back to Dorothy. The girl bit her lip, seeming to fight off tears before they escaped down her face. Still, she remained silent. "I don't know if I can kill the Witch. The Bible says it's a sin to kill. And even if it wasn't, she's so much stronger, and she doesn't care that I can't give her the shoes, and..."

Good riddance. He didn't know of any Bible, but the Witches had caused so much suffering between the two of them that whatever it said didn't matter. Those women had already been allowed to live for far too long. 

"The house was an accident," he told Dorothy as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me. You don't deserve this."

If nothing else had convinced him that the Witch had to be taken down immediately, the sight of Dorothy's slightly crumpled form would've done it. To hunt down a completely innocent girl for events beyond her control was all the evidence of wickedness he needed. 

"We're going to keep you safe. And then we're going to take you back to the Wizard so he can send you home. I promise."

Dorothy managed a weak smile at that. 

It wouldn't be easy. Their target was a ridiculously powerful sorceress. The rest of their group were the most incompetent beings he'd ever laid eyes on. The Witch had been thwarting even the Wizard's strongest armies for years. Despite all that, he had to try anyway. 

He couldn't save his family, or Glinda, or the province he'd grown up in. He couldn't even save himself. It was too late for that. But it wasn't too late for Dorothy. Maybe, just maybe, he could save her.


	10. Is Nothing True Anymore?

"Welcome, my student, to our personal Palace Library. Every one of these books were donated to us by the Emerald City Library in a stunnifying display of generosity." Madame Morrible led Glinda through a stately oak door into the largest library she'd ever seen. The Wizard trailed behind.

Beneath a high golden dome of a ceiling sat shelf upon shelf of books. They came in every size, some bearing the yellow pages of age while others were brand-new. All of the shelves had to have stretched over ten feet high. Marble columns surrounded the shelves and led to the second-floor balconies, while the walls bore intricate oil paintings of landscapes from all over Oz. An enormous window in the back wall had its curtains drawn back, letting in the sunlight and illuminating swirls of dust particles. Elphaba would've adored this place. 

No. That was wrong. The Elphaba Galinda had known would've adored the place. As for Glinda, she could only have wondered what Elphaba, would think now. Wherever she was. Perhaps she'd denounce anything that belonged to the Wizard. Call it all lying propaganda and storm out, sparks of magic involuntarily sparking along her fingertips. There was no reason why it should've been her and not Glinda standing beside Morrible. 

They wound between the shelves until Morrible stopped and turned to face one. "These rows are our Sorcery section. We're going to build the image of you as a Good Witch. The people need another symbol of hope to instill confidence. They will know that their fine government will keep them safe, even in danger and hardships."

Glinda steeled herself. This was nothing new. They weren't talking about Elphaba. The Wicked Witch wasn't real, only a creation of the newspapers and wanted posters. She wasn't speaking ill of her best friend; the Witch barely resembled the actual person at all. Just another lie she had to spread until Elphaba was finally found and received the crushing brunt of the Witch's punishment. 

Not that she could tell Morrible such things. "Are you going to teach me sorcery again?" was all she asked. 

She arched a penciled eyebrow. "You? Sorcery?"

"It's just since you brought me here, and-"

"Glinda, my dear, no need to worry about such things. The vast majority of our population has no innate magical talent whatsoever." Morrible ran a finger along the spines of the books. She selected some, forming a sizable stack on the table. They were detailed studies of sorcery, practical spells, and the physics of magic. "We are here so I can prepare you for the Anniversary Ball. You need something flashy, something magical to make your official debut as a Champion of Goodness. Oh, I like that title. Someone get that in writing."

"You trained me yourself. I can come up with something suitifying if I had the chance."

"Don't stress yourself out so. The Ball will be perfect. We'll have a brand-new dress made just for you. Your whole family will be there, as well as the Tiggulars. You'll be on the front page of every newspaper, and all of Oz will see reports about your goodness. Every one of them will adore you! My only word of advice is to leave the magic displays to me. We wouldn't want your grand entrance to be-" She spoke through clenched teeth, "-disappointing."

Getting Fiyero to make an appearance at all had been a feat. He'd grumbled about the whole affair, saying he didn't want to stroke the Wizard's ego after everything they'd learned about him. That wasn't completely accurate, she'd argued. True, the Anniversary Ball was held in commemoratorium of the Wizard's arrival to Oz, but it was mostly an excuse for high society to drink and show off their expensive clothes. It wasn't so different from what Fiyero got up to at the OzDust on weekends. Glinda had had to send a heartfelt letter to his parents about how little she got to see him nowadays, and how he should start taking more responsibilities as Prince, and how odd it would look if a royal family had a member missing on such an important event. Only then was he coming for certain. 

Glinda once told a reporter that herself and Fiyero's devotion to their great nation was only matched by their undying devotion to each other. That was a lie, or at least a half-truth. He must feel some care towards her if he'd stuck around this long. But did he love her? The question hung in the air. She couldn't bring herself to ask.

"I was thinking of having you fly in from the sky with magic displays behind you," Morrible continued. "It will display the contrast between you and the Witch. We've spread the rumor that she's always flying on that broomstick, seeing all and ready to strike terror at any time. We can play that angle to you, as if you're watching over them to keep the Ozians safe."

The Wizard piped up. "If real magic won't do, I worked on a prototype for a flying apparatus one time. Why, they'll believe it's your own magic with the press of a button."

Morrible scoffed, "Please, that pile of metal can't fly three feet off the ground."

"It...might need a few adjustments..."

She turned back to the sorcery texts and flipped through one. Glinda followed suit, picking up the spellbook closest to her and trying to find the levitation section. Morrible said, "Perhaps you could have a theme to your flight. Something soft and feminine would do. We could give the appearance of a cloud, or a sunbeam, or-"

"A bubble!" Glinda chimed in, blurting out the contents of whatever happened to be on the page she'd turned to. She had to say something before the decision was made for her. It fit her just fine, she thought. Momsie used to call her bubbly when she was little. "I can read this spell. Let me try," she continued. Shaking out her hands and bouncing on her toes, she studied the page. If it was imbued with enough magic, she could get results without any inborn magical talent. 

"Dear, I'd stop if I were y-"

"Ah Bel Ah...Pertum Ah, Bel Ah Pertum Bel Ah," she chanted. The words printed on the page took effect. A shimmer of magic coated her, leaving an enormous clear bubble behind that surrounded her on all sides. She couldn't hide the grin that crept onto her face. All that sorcery training had paid off. Morrible would be impressed, and finally declare that their sessions hadn't been a waste of time after all. Perhaps she'd receive more control over her own image: getting to perform real magic or writing her own speeches instead of parroting the latest rumor about the Witch. 

She studied the Wizard and Morrible. The latter crossed her arms. Neither looked particularly impressed. 

Right. The bubble had to fly. 

If she grabbed the book to search for another spell, the bubble would pop. All she had were her emotions. Maybe she did have magic inside her and it was just well-hidden. She stared at the ceiling, furrowing her brows. Up. Fly. Float. She stood on her tiptoes, willing them to leave the floor. Nothing. Elphaba made this look effortless. Glinda remained grounded.

She shifted her weight the wrong way, and the bubble popped. "Madame, wait, I'll get it right next time."

"This is not up for debate. I will perform the spells. We'll make the Ozians think you're a powerful sorceress. Whether you are or not is irrelevant."

"It is relevant! Can't this one thing be real? Not like anything else is lately!"

Morrible's eyes widened. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" She enunciated every syllable as both their faces hardened into glares. 

The Wizard lumbered into the confrontation, stepping between them. "Now, now, no need to get angry. I'm the leader of Oz. Do you think everyone would be happy if they knew I was an ordinary man? No! The country would fall into discord. Sometimes we say things that aren't true, and it's for the greater good."

Morrible cleared the distance between herself and Glinda, practically shoving the Wizard out of the way. She grabbed her wrist, fingernails digging into soft flesh. Grimacing, Glinda tried to pull away, to no avail. "I am extending an extraordinary opportunity to you by offering this position. You have been given everything, and yet remain ungrateful. I control the masses' beliefs, and I can take away your precious popularity in a heartbeat. All I'd have to do is extract class records and some stories from your classmates. I'll tell them all you were and are friends with Oz's greatest enemy. Do I make myself clear?"

Glinda nodded, so Morrible released her grip and clasped her hands. "Now that that tiny issue's settled, come along, miss. You don't want to be late for your dress fitting! I am so excited for you."

Morrible tucked the spell book under her arm and led the Wizard and Glinda away from the shelves. Taking one last glance at the sorcery tomes, Glinda let out an imperceptible sigh. So this was it. Morrible would cast all the spells and make the public believe Glinda was the powerful sorceress. Her question had been answered. Not even that one little thing could go her way. 

Maybe someday she'd sneak into the library after everyone else had retired to bed. She'd study those spell books and truly cast the magic that time. Maybe in another time, not that day, something about her could be real and true.


End file.
